//
last time we met I played with your kneecaps
they floated like they ought to
boats in the synovial seas

I should have drained you and drunk until you were just a desert of a man
I had you empty my body of my נשמה instead
there wasn't enough space in the hours for our words to stand

dawns are what they are
dusks are worse than that. I stay home, mourning my mind away
keep the windows shut. The smog is thick as mud. I can't die in this godforsaken place, wouldn't you know, it's all I ever talk about.
//